Reamdin
A faint hue of purple. That was all she remembered as she dusted herself off and picked herself up off the dusty ground. The sky was littered with stars - little specks of white paint that had been smattered across the inky night tarp. Looking around, she only saw faint shadows that wavered in the overcast moonlight. To say she was terrified would be a lie - the girl wasn't terrified but angered as she stalked off, anger in her eyes and fury coursing through her white-hot veins. Ignoring the gleaming pairs of curious yellow pupils in the pitch black, she planted her boot firmly on the ground and leapt up onto a gnarled tarry branch, climbing on top of it with a natural ease and a confidence that made it obvious she had done this many times before. Leap after leap and she finally pulled herself up. The gnarled trunk of the tree had been cleared in its midsection, giving her a splintery floor to step on as she dusted her feet off on the antique Navajo rug and tossed her jacket on the makeshift coat rack that had been whittled for her by her uncle years before. "You finished your training early?" A gravelly voice, a tone I recognized all too well, rang up and echoed through the branches. I whirled around. A man about twice my size came into my vision. He chuckled, a gravelly, rough voice that sent chills down my spine accompanied by the memories of unpleasant Christmas dinners and yelling accented by the slamming of bedroom doors and tears into cotton pillows. "Yes, Uncle, I did. About an hour ago. I took the longer route back." His gaze was fixed upon the view that two gnarled branches offered in the form of a makeshift window - the smattered sky brilliant with the dim overcast of starlight in the peak of night. The jagged edge of his wound crinkled and squirmed as he blinked and turned his head to admire the view, the crimson strings of charred flesh wriggling with each action. He broke the silence. "I was getting worried the grim had come to get you. They can make a nasty meal out of young blood, a sight I assume you're all too familiar with. I shifted my weight and folded my arm across my narrow frame. the coloration quickly fading as I sunk my teeth into the flesh of my lower lip to bite back a comment that would result in the learning of an all-too familiar lesson. "Yes, Uncle Qrow. I took the longer route back so I could ensure I was safe. I'm fine. A little shaken up, but I'm fine." Before he could direct any more biting remarks my way, the thud ''of hustled footsteps captured my attention. The frame of a boy appeared in the doorway, the first noticeable aspect of his appearance being the scabbed cut over his cheekbone. His auburn bangs were matted over his forehead, framing his pupils in an entanglement of honey-like strands. "What is it? What happened?" my uncle demanded, raising a raggedy eyebrow in expectation of a reply. "Grimm. They delayed Nora and Ren's arrival." The uncle sighed in an heaval of frustration. "Fuck. Jaune, I need you to go back and get them. I'll follow right behind you. Ruby, back me up and provide cover fire." I gave a curt nod, the thought of disobedience flitting away from my train of thought. Qrow clenched his fists tightly, an all-too-well-known sign that he was shifting. His hands were infected by inky strands of black that covered the pale complexion of his skin and spread upwards of his neck towards his face and down to trap his legs. He twisted his head to the side in a clear feeling of agony. Feathers the color of midnight drifted towards the floor and more stuck to the tar complexion that trapped his body. A ripping sound and jagged, feathered wings twice the size of his frame sprouted from the spine of his sturdy back. What once was his mouth had been replaced in the transformation process by a long, narrow beak of golden yellow. He gave an unintelligible ''caw. I understood what he said to be an encouragement for action, so I snatched up my leather sheath and followed behind Jaune out the door. The world was as torn as I imagined, an invisible schism dividing imagination from reality, alterations from originality, peace from anarchy. The ceiling of the world was painted a royal purple with hues of midnight blue streaking across the canvas of the sky. The branches of the trees were gnarled and rooted, all color being obstructed by the shadows cast over the clouds above. The monochromatic world of blacks and whites and the evil spirits that dwelled within was so disparate to that of the splattered backdrop cast by the vivid night sky. Hissing noises surrounded my figure and enveloped me from every possible direction, ensuring I could not pinpoint a direct source of the commotion. I could feel the taut muscles of a back against mine, rubbing against my frame, and the sharp metallic clang of anger being drawn from a leather sheath. "Careful. We can't all attack at once." The crow that hovered above my head like an annoying pest dipped to the ground and in a ruffle of feathers, there once again stood my uncle with tired wrinkle lines framing the otherwise alert and tense shape of my uncle's aging face. I heard the heavy blast once again, deeper and louder this time, from Nora's figure. The hammer she had been gifted 3 moons ago was still in immaculate form, constructed for close quarters and heavy blows in close-up contact. I decided it was time to unsheathe my weapon of destruction, my hands curling around the leather handle as the hooked blade curved upward when I raised my arm and lowered it again. What I had expected to show up as a black figure, clear in my vision so I could prepare for the attack, did not arise. The grimm had changed their tactics. A squiggle of smoke slithered along the silt, tendrils of inky jet-black color curling as the figure weaved closer towards our fortification of bodies. I raised my sword and a blast was heard, a bolt of emerald green piercing the slithering beast and turning into a puddle of crude oil-like liquid on the floor. The figures continued to advance towards our ranks, faster and faster and more at a time. In a split second, they hurtled up from their position on the dirt in a figure that mostly resembled a shadow that wavered in the wind, as if it were a holographic shadow. The grimm had never broke rank before from the ground and my arms felt dense, heavy. Shocked and unable to move, I stared up at the wavering beast that hovered above me and a flash of emerald green ended the reign of terror the beast had been so insistent on imposing on my emotions. A pair of amber eyes were intently fixated on me, as Jaune raised a perfectly-groomed eyebrow. "Stay focused. It would be a tragedy to lose your life. Especially to a grimm." His blade arced upward, a flash of green light swooshing in the air above us as black liquid spurted to the dirt below. I nodded, but the silence was short-lived. Another blast and a grimm was decapitated by the precision and accuracy of Nora's targeting. Heavy breathing surrounded us and I joined in with the chorus of fatigue as I lowered my weapon and sat on the dusty ground. I felt a pair of eyes narrow at me. "Get up, we aren't done fi--" A piercing scream interrupted his biting comment as tendrils of black oil enveloped my uncle's frail frame and slammed him to the ground. His body writhed and squirmed every direction as he attempted to fight off the iron grip that the beast was exerting over his fading life. The oil masked his face and spread onto his extended limbs, covering every inch of his pale, freckled skin with corruption. The creature I could no longer call my uncle rose up, a peculiar green aura enveloping his tarred, flowing figure. Black tendrils of ink burst from his frame as he waved side to side. And then, something that had never happened before happened. The creature spoke, an echo inside my head imitating the stern yet patient tone that I had become so accustomed to over the course of my life. "He is coming for you. Run. He will catch you. Leave. He will protect you. Don't trust it. He is our leader. Our Master." The words sent chills down my spine and I stood there, stunned by the voice this creature had adopted. Finally, stunned but conscious, I spoke. "Who?" "Somebody. He is our ekostal, our leader. He will find you, Reamdin. He will guide you. And he will-" The shriek that accompanied the interruption of that sentence caused me to hunch over in deafening shock as I tried to regain my senses. He had said my birth name. The creature melted to the floor once more, slithering past me and away. I tried to collect the facts I had obtained, the ringing in my ears faint but present around me. Someone was coming for me. I had to decide whether I trusted him or not. My uncle was dead. Was this the message he had been waiting all his life to tell me? Was this the end of my family? Where were my siblings? What was to happen now? How did he know my birth name? Was I in considerable danger? The information presented seemed to arouse more questions than actual facts, and numbly I stalked off to the place I had once called home, broken inside and a hurt warrior who would need to find the strength to find the truth in this world shrouded by lies in the darkness. I was broken, but I was alive. My real name was Reamdin. My family was dead. I was broken. I was alive. And I would fight to discover the truth behind the shattered stories.